


The Sorcerer and The bard

by elevenagain



Category: Merlin (TV), Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/F, M/M, One Shot, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenagain/pseuds/elevenagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s because we’re the same,” she replied, looking at him knowingly. It made him feel defensive.<br/>“How do you mean?”<br/>“You’ve got the same look in your eyes. You, too, have lost someone you loved.”</p><p>Merlin meets Gabrielle after years of wandering with no destination. The two bond over the loss of their soulmates.<br/>Merlin/Gabrielle FRIENDSHIP!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sorcerer and The bard

**Author's Note:**

> So, Warrior Bard (Xena/Gabrielle) was my first OTP and I'm crazy about them. A friend of mine has Merthur as her OTP, and we have been discussing how much they have in common and how tragically beautiful they are.  
> I, then, decided to write this for her as a gift.  
> Hope you can enjoy it as well!  
> (Please, be reminded that this fic is angst).

He supposed he should be tired of walking, but he was not. For a while now (for such a _long, long_ while), he had not felt much regarding hunger, thirsty or exhaustion. Not of the physical kind, anyway.

He pulled his scarf closer around his neck, sniffing it. Sure, it was a silly thing to do, since _he_ had been gone for so long, but it comforted him. He could still smell _him_. He also knew it was all in his mind (and that was the problem, wasn’t it? It was all in his mind, and only there), since the original clothing had long ago decomposed. He had sewn one of _his_ shirts into his scarf, back then, and it was painful just how well they had mixed up. _Just like us,_ he had thought, with a surge of pain going through his chest. That scarf and that shirt were long gone, though. There had been dozens of scarves since then. Always _red._ It was _his_ color. It was _their_ color.

He always walked with a staff, now. Gwen had long ago tried to joke about it – always the sweetheart, trying to hide her own pain -, saying it made him look all magnificent. The truth was a lot less impressing, though. He _needed_ his staff. Without its support, he thought he would fall – he was always so dizzy, so _lost_. Funny, how he had not needed this staff a lot of years ago. Well, he had had _him_ for support, after all.

After walking for unthinkable miles nonstop, he heard the clash of swords. Oh, he _knew_ that sound. He had heard it daily when he used to be happy. It was so strange now – to think that, one day, he had been happy. Genuinely happy. _Lovesickingly happy_.

Unceremoniously, he pushed some bushes out of the way, and found the source of the noise. It was four big, scary-looking guys, swinging their swords at a blond woman, who was defending herself with what looked like two knives which were _not_ big enough. Knowing _he_ would have done the same, he intervened – although from a distance. He was not one for socializing, not these days.

The small – but muscular – woman seemed surprised to see a branch fall on one of her opponents, and another be flown away by what had felt like a strong gush of air. Taking her eyes off of her adversaries – two of which were now unconscious -, she took in her surroundings attentively. After only a few seconds, she yelled, “You, there! Don’t intervene! This is my fight.”

He was surprised. How had she known it was him? And how did she spot him – he was hidden behind the bushes. Still, even if he were impressed, he was also a little offended. She had been rude – and he was only trying to help him. _Well, if you want to fight two-on-one on your own, then so be it._ He could, of course, still be around to save her when she needed it.  He had quite the experience handling stubborn, full-of-themselves little jerks.

Ah, there it was again. Or had it even left, for even just a single moment? The pain certainly had felt like his constant companion throughout the last centuries.

He was not ready, though, for his jaw to drop. In less than one minute, the two guys had dropped to the floor, seriously injured the girl’s furious punches and kicks. Well, _that_ had been a surprise, but it was a good one, he supposed.

He had already turned to leave when he heard, “Wait.”

When he stopped, she continued, “I’m sorry. And thank you. For before. I just,” she sighed, and he turned back to her. Her face looked just so tired, and he had a feeling it was not from the fight. He wondered if his looked the same, and knew it was probably worse.

“I just have a problem trusting people. I’ve been on my own for a while now, you know?” She ran a hand through her short hair, looking at him with what seemed a lot like vulnerability in her eyes.

“Trust me, I do,” he answered, and was surprised by how hoarse his voice sounded. It was certainly due to how little he had been speaking.

She then started laughing, and he looked at her curiously. It was a joyless laugh, and he imagined his would sound the same nowadays.

“It’s just, I used to be such a trusting person. And I loved meeting new people. By Zeus, I would fall for them! Ha, I thought that was love!” She laughed a little more, but he could see that there were also tears forming in her eyes.

“You still seem pretty trusting to me. Here you are, telling a stranger about yourself,” he pointed out.

“It’s because we’re the same,” she replied, looking at him knowingly. It made him feel defensive.

“How do you mean?”

“You’ve got the same look in your eyes. You, too, have lost someone you loved.”

* * *

 

For the first time in years, she was traveling with someone. She had forgotten how it was to have a person by her side. But then again, this wasn’t the same. He was not _her,_ and neither of them wanted him to be. Besides, there could never be someone like _her._

Mostly, they walked quietly during the day. When she explained to him that she continued _her_ legacy fighting injustice, he said that _he_ would have liked it. Said _he_ was the most just person to have ever walked on Earth. They almost had a fight, then. Each one kept yelling at the other how their partner had been the most decent, most honorable, most skilled, bravest soul to ever breathe. When their faces were red from screaming so much, they looked at each other and started laughing. By Zeus, throwing such a fit was so like _her_ , she said. He declared that the same would be true for _him._ And then the laughter turned to tears, and they stopped looking at each other.

By night, however, they would talk. Maybe it was the safety of the darkness, maybe it was the exhaustion that made them a little more open. In one of those nights, with the sky full of stars above their heads, she asked quietly, “What were the first words you’ve ever said to him?”

“’Come on, that’s enough. You had your fun, my friend,’” and while she looked at his faint smile, she could swear he looked younger. He must had been a fine fellow, back when he was happy and full of dreams. She thought that the young version of her might have fallen for the young version of him. That was before, of course, she had learned what true love was. She knew then that she could never love another.

“Friend, huh?” She smirked knowingly.

“Are you trying to tell me you never called her ‘your friend’?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Point taken,” she admitted, and they smiled a little at each other. _Friends._ It was _so much_ more than that.

“What were your first words to her, then?” He asked, looking back at the sky.

She sighed heavily, “’You have to take me with you and teach me everything you know.’”

“I suppose she did. You are a brilliant fighter, and I would know. I’ve seen incredible knights.”

She looked at him for a long moment, before closing her eyes to stop the tears from running down her face. “She taught me how to love,” and she did not need to see him to know that he was crying, too.

“Oh, so you’re a bard? How come I did not learn about this before?” He asked, genuinely intrigued. He _had_ always liked art.

“I haven’t felt much inspiration in a long time,” she replied, gazing at her feet.

“Well, I’m here now, and I am quite smart, if I do say so myself. Let’s rhyme,” he proposed, trying to take the sad scowl of her face for a few minutes. He did not stop to consider that his looked like that pretty much all the time, too.

“Full of ourselves, aren’t we?” She laughed a little bit, enjoying having a moment of silliness again.

“Oh no, I can assure you, that wouldn’t be me!” He was smiling too, feeling an ounce less bitter.

“Could you tell me then, who would it be?”

“A friend of mine, whom I wish you could see!”

“Do tell, of what color his eyes?”

“The bluest blue, just like the skies”

“Could not have matched hers, this guy’s”

“See this little lady, she lies”

And then they were laughing, even if for a short moment. His face felt weird from doing it, and he was sure hers did too. When the laughter turned into a small smile, he asked, “Were her eyes really blue too?”

“Most beautiful shade of blue I have ever seen. Most beautiful _eyes_ I have ever seen,” she sighed dreamily.

“You would say that about any part of her,” he scoffed playfully.

“And you would of him,” she offered back, to which he just nodded.

“She would hate this conversation, though. Too much ‘sappiness’ for her, she would say,” she declared, a fond smile now on her face.

“So would he. He was emotionally challenged, I swear. Could never really hug me in front of people,” he rolled his eyes, trying to look annoyed, but he was sure he probably looked smitten.

“I guess you and I will drive them crazy,” she grinned conspiratorially.

“Are you kidding me? _They_ will drive us crazy acting like grumpy, immature 5-year-olds,” and they were laughing again.  
_  
Will._ Both of them forgetting it should be _would_ , and imagining for just a fleeting second that they would come home to their lovers, the four of them dining together and laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing… they would have given _everything._

* * *

 

“You never told me his name, though,” she pointed out one night, while they were sitting on the sand, looking at the sea. It was also true that they had not told each other their own names yet, but somehow, they both knew it was not the important part. She was _hers_ and he was _his_ , and _theirs_ were the names that really mattered.

“You never told me hers, either,” he replied, surprised to realize he did not feel uneasy. After years of traveling together, he felt comfortable enough to tell her _his_ name, which he hadn’t pronounced out loud in years, too sacred to be wasted in unworthy air. He had not pronounced his own for just as long, since he knew it should always be followed by _his._ There was no other way.

“Xena,” she whispered softly, feeling like the air had been suck out of her. She hoped against hope that saying the name would bring her beloved to her, but nothing happened and she had to close her eyes, feeling suddenly unbalanced, even though she was sitting.

“Arthur,” he confessed, amazed at how such sweetness could burn his tongue. After all those years, the name still felt _oh so right_ in his lips. Like his lips’ had felt.

“You’re Merlin,” she guessed, her eyes wide.

“You’re Gabrielle,” he answered back, after nodding his head a little.

“You know us?” She asked, surprised.

“Of course I do. People talk about you. Two great heroines, a great love story.”

“A beautiful one, but also a tragic one,” Gabrielle could not look him in the eyes, preferring to stare at the sea in front of her.

“I would know about those,” his voice was quiet, pained. The bard wished she could hold him, but that would not make it better. Not _her_ embrace, anyway.

“You say that a lot. You think it makes you look old and wise?” She joked. If only she knew…

“Do you think they will still talk about us in the future? Remember our love stories, adventures and journeys?” She continued, when it was obvious he would not reply. She would like to believe that people would talk about Xena, would know who she was and how great she was. Would know she had changed the world. Had changed _her_ world.

“I’ll let you know,” Merlin answered mysteriously. Gabrielle, who had been filling a goblet with wine, was about to ask what exactly he had meant by that, when his eyes widened and he looked like he was in pain.

“Could you… could you not drink that? Not here, in front of the sea?” He asked, his voice breaking.

“Oh… okay?” She put the goblet down, and she couldn’t help looking intrigued.

“It’s just… bad memories. One of the times I almost lost him,” his gaze would not find hers, and she could understand why.

“Oh. I’m sorry. It’s weird. Globets and the sea actually bring me some good memories.”

“I’m glad for you, honestly. Well, since we’re at it… what should I avoid in front of you?”

“Uh… no crosses, please,” she replied wearily.

“Oh, that will be easy. The cross and magic are not exactly good friends, you know?”

She laughed a little.

“Which brings me to another question: how were you not freaked out by my magic?”

“Are you joking with me right now? I fought _gods,_ Merlin!”

“Oh, yeah. Always though those were just stories.”

“Like the dragon thing was so easy to believe…”

“The sword in the stone you believe?”

“Hah, yeah! Xena _pulled_ the sword from the stone,” Gabrielle replied with a smug grin plastered on her face.

“Wait, were we dating the same person?”

“I don’t know. Mine went to Tartarus and back for me. Did yours?”

“He wasn’t Greek, pardon me. He did go against his _king father_ to save his _mere servant_ , though,” he answered with a grin that matched hers, and they were comfortably in silence for  a minute.

“You know, Merlin, I haven’t been _that_ sad since I found you.”

“Yeah, I don’t hate the world so much anymore.”

They grinned at each other, and in a different reality, they really could have been happy as the best of friends. With how things were, however, true happiness was an impossible dream.

“So, I’m a bard,” Gabrielle started, lying on the sand and looking up at the sky.

“Yeah…?” Merlin mirrored her gesture, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m going to tell you a story. One more about tragic crossed-lovers, those who belonged to each other, but were torn apart by the cold hands of destiny, Achilles and Patroclus.”

The next day, Merlin would conclude that he had fallen asleep to the sound of Gabrielle’s voice, wishing that all the tragic lovers of the world could one day be reunited in joy.

* * *

 

 

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Merlin said. They were next to the tomb where Xena’s ashes laid, in Amphipolis, next to her family.

“I like you enough,” she answered and he rolled his eyes at her. “Seriously, though – if I go to the Elysium first, will you bring my body here? I want to lie next to ner.”

Melin had never seen Gabrielle more serious. He promised solemnly, to which she asked, “What about you? If you go first, what do you want me to do?” She had that sharp, smart, suspicious look in her eyes, and that was how he knew that she _knew._

“I won’t go first,” he ran his hand through his hair, and he looked _so, so_ tired.

“Merlin,” she called, and his gaze fell back on hers, “Why is my hair white and my skin wrinkled, and you still  look so young?” The look on her face was very determined.

“I’m immortal, Gabrielle. I’m destined to wander around this Earth until he comes back. I wait, and I wait, and I wait,” his voice held so much pain, and she knew nothing she could say would make it better, so she just held him.

“You know, Merlin, there’s one more thing Xena taught me,” she announced when they were leaving Amphipolis.

“Oh?” It did not seem possible to have that many stories left; they had been telling each other about their adventures and journeys _for years._

“The dead can hear our thoughts. So Arthur knows everything you feel for him. He knows you’re waiting and he _will_ come back.”

She left then, going ahead of him to set camp. He desperately _hoped_ (wasn’t that all he ever did?) she was right. And, well, Xena had always seemed pretty smart and wise, so he could try…

“Arthur?” He whispered, looking up at the sky. “It’s been a long time, my friend…”

A few meters ahead, Gabrielle was telling Xena about how much she wished Merlin could be happy again. About how much she wished _they all_ could be happy again.

* * *

 

“What is that?” Gabrielle asked, coming to stand by his side. It scared Merlin a little to realize that Gabrielle even _sounded_ old now.

“It’s a coin,” he declared, handing it to her.

On one side of the small object, she could see a face that looked astoundingly like Merlin’s. Flipping it over, she could see the strong-face of a handsome man. She didn’t need to ask to know it was Arthur.

“He was beautiful,” she declared quietly.

“He was,” he agreed with a sigh. “Someone told me we were two sides of the same coin, so I took this coin from him and kept it as a token. It was the only thing that kept me sane on some nights.”

Gabrielle pulled out her chakram. “This was Xena’s.”

“That chakram is an amazing weapon. Like she was,” he added respectfully.

“Like she was,” she nodded. “I could not throw it until… until she was gone. I was the new girl with the chakram, after that. The world needed me. I needed to continue all the goodness she had been doing,” she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“And you did it greatly. You _do_ it greatly,” he added, reminded once again of how old she was getting. He could sense a goodbye and he hated that he cared again, that we would lose a dear someone _again._

“Merlin… _you_ have to keep doing it. You need to keep making the world better. For me. For Xena. For _Arthur_.”

And how could he not? He had always done _everything_ for Arthur.

* * *

 

He was sad. And that was saying something, since he was _always_ sad.

“Merlin,” she said, sensing her friend’s mood. From the bed where she laid, she took his hand in hers, “Don’t be so sad. I’m going to see her again. We’re going to be together in the Elysium, in heaven, heck, somewhere beautiful. And then we’re going to come back and find one another again, because we’re soulmates. I’m happy, Merlin.”

He sniffled a little, hoping that she wouldn’t notice.

“And don’t worry. I’ll tell  Arthur to hurry up. He _is_ a stubborn brat for making you wait this long.”

“Hey! Only I can talk shit about him!” He warned, looking at her indignantly.

“At least you’re not sad anymore,” she smiled a little, and _gosh_ , would he miss her.

“Maybe we can all come back together to find you. We’ll have amazing dinners together and Xena and Arthur will behave like children and we’ll have to break them apart.”

“I’d like that,” he managed to smile a little bit, even though there were still tears in his eyes.

“Merlin,” she sighed tiredly, “do you think you could leave me to sleep a little bit now? I’m pretty exhausted.”

And he knew that she also knew it was the last time they would talk to each other. In this life of hers, at least, because he sure hoped all the stuff she was always saying was true.

“Yes, of course. Sleep tight, Gabrielle. Dream of her,” he kissed her forehead tenderly and headed to the door.

“Always. And, Merlin, do you remember..?”

“Yes. You’ll be in Amphipolis, right next to her. As it should be.”

“As it should be. Good night, Merlin.”

“Good night,  Gabrielle.”  
 

* * *

 

Centuries later, he would still think of his blond friend. More importantly, he would still think of his blond beloved. He hoped to see them both again. That was Merlin: _hoping, waiting, hoping, waiting._

And gosh, was it good to imagine that the Warrior would be reunited with her Bard, that the King would be reunited with his Sorcerer, and that they would be happy again. They would be whole again. They would all be in the same space for the very first time, and that it would be the beginning of the most beautiful journey they had yet to go through.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have thoughts, leave them here or come talk to me at threadgoodethebard on tumblr!


End file.
